


Under The Tree

by onix45873



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:19:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onix45873/pseuds/onix45873
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider can't seem to understand what he's feeling. Of course, that's normal for someone of his age.<br/>Even if his feelings are...complicated in their direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dave shoved the door of his brother’s apartment roughly with his good shoulder, opening it. The dark bags under his eyes were hidden by the dark plastic of his black aviator sunglasses. A long gash on the side of his face was leaking blood down his prominent cheek bones. A black and blue bouquet of bruises bloomed across his chest. Blood dribbled down his chest from lacerations, like the one on his face, slashed across his ribs. Four in total, big long gashes across his rib cage. His leg could not support his weight and he had a heavy limp.  
Of course, his brother wasn’t home. Perfect. Lovely. Wonderful. How completely not the exact opposite of what he had wanted. It was too early.  
Dave limped quietly to the bathroom, still trying to be as quiet as possible, just in case he had forgotten the proper day of the week and it was Tuesday instead of Monday. His brother got off work early on Monday. Not that he knew. Or cared. A sharp glancing bolt of agony shot through his chest and the pale teenager gritted his teeth in pain, trying not to whimper like a little girl with a skinned knee.  
Just as the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, Dave heard footsteps crossing the threshold and remembered that he hadn’t shut the apartment door behind him. “Shit,” he muttered, locking the bathroom door.  
“Dave?” Bro’s deep resonating voice came through the panels of the door. “Dave, 're ya in there?”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m going to, uh…take a shower.” He would have prayed his voice didn't sound too weak and fragile if he had believed in God.  
There was a short pause and Dave could feel sweat and blood dripping down his face.  
“Dave, there’s blood on th' floor. Are ya hurt?”  
As Dave went to respond he took too deep a breath and pain jerked through his chest and he had to bite his hand to keep the accompanying squeak in his throat. “Yeah,” he said after he had recovered, “I tripped and scraped my knee on the way home. I’m fine.”  
“Alright lil’ man.”  
Dave heard Bro’s footsteps retreating from the door.  
And that was it.  
Tears pricked at Dave’s eyes, unsure of what had caused them. He didn’t care about what his brother thought of him. He didn’t want his brother’s reassurance or comfort. He was Dave Strider. He didn’t need anyone. He could take care of himself.  
So what if he’d gotten jumped?  
It didn’t matter to him.  
Not one bit.  
Why would it?  



	2. Chapter 2

Dave rolled out of bed early in the morning, his bruised chest complaining painfully with every small movement he made. His alarm clock was blaring and he ignored it until his brother shouted at him to turn it off. The same tired routine as every other day. So why did this day feel different?  
The blonde shoved some food in a bag and slipped out of the apartment, heading for the bus stop. He hopped the last two steps down to the end of the flight of stairs, slightly out of breath. His brother’s apartment was one floor away from the top of an eleven story apartment building and the elevator was out of commission. Something about a snapped cable. Dave didn’t really pay attention to things like that, it was easy to take the stairs, even with his backpack. It was good exercise.  
Dave shoved the building door open and walked out into the hot sun. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the bright light, even under the dark plastic of his shades.  
He up his head phones on and headed towards the bus stop, pressing play on his iPod as he approached.  
Someone else was already leaning against the bus-stop sign. Dave paused for a second, slightly confused. He was the only person at his school that lived on this block of the city.  
The kid leaning on the metal sign was wearing a dark grey tee-shirt that was about three sizes too big for him. A matching beanie that looked just as big as the tee-shirt was resting on his head, hiding all but a few locks of jet black hair. The skin of the kid’s exposed wrists were light grey and his nails were solid yellow. As Dave drew closer to the bus stop he could see the kid was holding an iPhone in his hand and texting furiously with one hand which Dave silently found very impressive. The kid looked up as Dave leaned against the opposite side of the sign and Dave could see though the corners of his eyes that the kid’s eyes were black. Not solid black like a demon in a horror movie, but there were no irises to speak of, just black. The kid was a boy, which was clear from the bone structure in his face. It had been hard to tell because the kid was so darn skinny under all the excess fabric of his tee-shirt.  
“What the fuck are you staring at?”  
Dave blinked as the kid’s voice practically stabbed his ear drums. The boy’s voice was slightly nasal and had a strongly annoyed tone. It was also pretty damn loud.  
“I can tell you’re staring at me fucker, those shades don’t hide shit.”  
Damn. Dave shrugged in response, turning his eyes away from the strange grey-skinned boy. “I’m not staring at anything; I just haven’t seen you around here. I’m usually the only one at the bus stop.”  
The kid snorted and turned his attention back to his iPhone. “Yeah, well, I just moved here.”  
Dave nodded. He’d thought as much.  
The two of them spent the rest of the wait in silence.  
Dave’s iPod died about a minute before the bus arrived.

\---

“And that was why the pilgrims left England.”  
Dave had to suppress a loud groan as his head connected with the desk. Every day he swore to himself that his classes couldn’t get any more boring.  
He was dead wrong.  
As per usual.  
He hadn’t seen the kid from the bus stop all day, not that he’d been thinking about him.  
The kid wasn’t in any of his classes, which wasn't that strange, considering Dave's classes were almost all Advanced Placement.  
His eyes flicked up to the clock.  
Ten more minutes.  
Ten more minutes of absolutely hellish existence. 

Ten long minutes later, the bell rang. All of the students practically leaped out of their seats, hurrying towards the exit. Dave waited until the hustle and bustle of the students had subsided as most of the students exited the classroom.  
Gathering all of his stuff together, Dave slung his backpack over his shoulder. He tucked his notebook under his arm and wrapped the cord of his head phones (which he refused to stuff in his backpack for fear of destroying the wires) around his hand. He knew the bus wouldn’t leave for another twenty five minutes, but he didn’t have anything better to do.  
Although, avoiding the Makaras was certainly an incentive. The strange brothers had a habit of hanging around in the empty building after school.  
Now that Dave actually thought about it, the kid from the bus stop had the same grey skin as the Makara brothers. Only, the brothers had orange and yellow horns as well as purple irises and sharp teeth and long canines.  
This wasn’t particularly strange, Dave was actually surprised his school didn’t have more students like that. A few of his online friends went to schools where the grey-skins made up the majority of the student body.  
The derogatory name for these people was “Troll,” but Alternian was the "politically correct" term.  
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, fucker!” Dave was jerked out of his thoughts by someone slamming into his chest. He looked down to see black eyes glaring up at him, and jet black hair covered by a large grey beanie.  
It was the kid from the bus stop.  
“Aren’t you going to fucking apologize for running into me?” The kid sounded just as, if even more (if that was even possible), annoyed as he had at the bus stop.  
“Fuck no man, you’re the one who ran into me.” The words were out of his mouth before Dave could stop them, a problem that seemed to be a reoccurring one for him.  
The kid had the gall to actually look offended. “What the fuck are you talking about? I was watching where I was going and you just walked right into me!”  
Dave rolled his eyes under his sunglasses, but his face didn’t change at all. “Whatever.”  
Dave felt an unfamiliar feeling rising in his chest and he shoved past the boy, slamming his bad arm into the boy’s shoulder. Before he could stop it, a grimace of pain spasmed across his face. Dave could feel the kid’s eyes on him as he walked quickly off down the now slightly-less-crowded hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

Dave shook his sand-blonde hair out of his eyes, trying to keep his eyes focused on the paper he was writing.  
It wasn’t working.  
With an exhausted sigh, Dave shoved his desk chair backward, rolling across the floor of his room. His shades had clattered to the floor about an hour ago and Dave vigorously rubbed his hands on his face to try and keep himself awake. Staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts began to wander like they’d been doing all evening. Hell, he hadn’t even been able to have a coherent conversation with his brother, his mind had been so scattered.  
A ping from his computer made him blink. Someone was messaging him, but when he squinted at the screen from his position across the room he couldn’t quite make out the name in the pop-up window. Curiosity got the better of him and he swung back across the room, pushing off the side of his bed. He almost crashed into his desk lamp.  
After making sure he wasn’t going to knock his computer monitor off the desk as well, he clicked the now minimized window and looked at the name of the asshole who thought it was okay to message someone in the middle of the night.  
\---carcinoGenesis---  
CG: HEY.  
CG: BLONDE KID.  
CG: I KNOW YOU’RE THERE.

Who the hell was this? The handle was unfamiliar, but Dave typed up a response anyway even though it was against his better judgement. Since when did he listen to common sense?

\---turntechGodhead is online---  
TG: hello and welcome to dave striders personal hell where people think it is socially acceptable to attempt communication after eleven thirty  
TG: who the hell are you anyway and how did you know i was awake in the first place

CG: CAPTOR TOLD ME YOU NEVER GO TO BED UNTIL AROUND TWO OR THREE SO I THINK I’M PLAYING IT PRETTY FUCKING SAFE.

TG: wait how do you know sollux

CG: **WE GO TO SCHOOL TOGETHER, FUCKASS**

After a moment of confusion, Dave had to actually stop himself from bursting out laughing. His fingers clacked away at the keys and he shook his head in disbelief.

TG: this isnt shouty mcshouternubs is it  
TG: bus stop kid  
TG: holy shit dude  
TG: this is a whole new extreme stalker level of creepy

CG: ****MY NAME IS KARKAT VANTAS, YOU INSUFFERABLE PIECE OF PARTIALLY DIGESTED ANIMAL CARCASS.****

TG: holy shit it is you  
TG: your name is karkat huh  
TG: nice to meet you karkles now what did you want to tell me

CG: IF YOU CALL ME KARKLES ONE MORE TIME I WILL RIP OUT YOUR INTESTINES AND SHOVE THEM SO FAR DOWN YOUR OWN THROAT YOUR STOMACH WILL DIGEST ITSELF.

TG: thank you for the wonderful imagery but im assuming you didnt message me just for kicks

CG: NO FUCK, DIPSHIT. DO YOU HAVE A CAR?

A car? Dave’s eyebrows knitted together. What the hell was this kid asking him for?

TG: that entirely depends on the situation  
TG: im not in the habit of sneaking out of my brother’s apartment in the middle of the night for frivolous reasons

CG: I’M FUCKING BLEEDING YOU ASSHOLE.  
CG: I’M ASKING YOU FOR FUCKING *****HELP***** YOU THICK SKULLED BULGEMUNCHER.

Dave almost fell out of his chair, he shoved back from the desk so quickly.  
Grabbing his phone from it's place of discard-ation on the floor and smashing his hand into the screen until the messaging app opened, Dave ran (as silently as he could) out of his room and down the hall to the door, scooping up Bro’s ring of keys on his way out the door.  
When he looked back down at his phone, already halfway down the apartment building stairs (how he hadn't tripped already and broken his neck on the stair-railing, the world may never know), the kid had already messaged him several times.

CG: I DON’T KNOW YOU AT ALL SO I’M JUST GOING TO HAVE TO TRUST THAT YOU’RE NOT A CREEPY SON OF A FUCK.  
CG: YOU’RE PROBABLY THE MOST NO-STRINGS-ATTACHED PERSON I COULD THINK OF WHO’S NOT AN ALTERNIAN.  
CG: ARE YOU STILL THERE?

TG: yeah where are you

CG: ON THE CORNER OF TWELFTH AND LOCKWOOD.

TG: am i going to regret helping you

CG: NO, WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?  
CG: WELL.  
CG: I MEAN  
CG: YEAH, PROBABLY.

Dave groaned internally as he flung open the door of Bro’s car and slid into the driver’s seat.

TG: im on my way

CG: THANKS AND ALL THAT SHIT, BUT SERIOUSLY PLEASE HURRY. IF AN ALTERNIAN SEES ME OUT HERE, I’M DEAD.  
CG: LIKE, SERIOUSLY DEAD.

 

What felt like hours (but was probably more like two minutes), Dave pulled his brother’s car over alongside an empty strip of pavement on the corner of Twelfth and Lockwood. It was dark, except for a street lamp that illuminated a thick streak of bright, candy red liquid on the cement sidewalk.  
“Hey. Down here.” A soft, weak voice came from a small dark alleyway. Dave hadn’t seen the figure curled up against the wall of the narrow alley at first, it was so small and dark. He walked hesitantly over to the voice, and as he got closer he could make out the shape of a small person sitting with their back and head resting on the alley wall more clearly.  
A single car drove by, casting light into the dark passage and illuminating the person curled up in the alley. “Holy shit-!” Dave covered his mouth, his stomach twisting in his abdomen.  
The person in the alley was, indeed, one Karkat Vantas. Except his face was a much paler shade of grey and his tee-shirt which had clearly previously been white, was covered in visceral splatters of bright red, the same color as the smear under the light post. There was a large almost bite-like wound in the Alternian’s neck and another wound under his shirt that, Dave assumed, be just as bad as the neck one.  
“That...that bad, huh…?” Karkat’s voice was raspy and weak, and speaking clearly hurt.  
Dave took a small step forward, pausing before he got any closer. “Do you want me to call an ambulance, or…” he trailed off when Karkat reflexively went to shake his head then squeaked in pain, eyes going wide and face contorting.  
“No, no ambulance, just...just take me home.”


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken much maneuvering, but Dave managed to get Karkat into the passenger seat of his brother’s car, saying a silent prayer for himself thinking about what his Bro would say when he saw the interior of the vehicle.  
“Alright,” Dave turned to the small troll,”what’s your address?”  
“Seven...Seven three zero five, Parkway Avenue.”  
Silence fell inside the car.  
Dave stared at the mutilated troll, who stared up at nothing in particular through half-lidded eyes, his hand clamped firmly onto the bite wound on his neck.  
“You live," Karkat glanced over at Dave, obviously mildly surprised by the tone of voice, "with the Makaras?”  
The only thing Karkat could do was nod, as speaking was obviously becoming progressively more painful.  
“You know, you never told me what happened to you.”  
A soft head-shake was the only response.  
“I’m not taking someone with chunks missing somewhere they might get even more hurt,” Dave said, shaking his head. “Nope, no thank you, no way, no sir-ee.”  
“I...I knew it was a bad idea...to message you about this.” Karkat’s voice sounded weaker and Dave hurriedly turned the key in the ignition.  
“Where...where are we going…?”  
Dave floored the accelerator. “Well, if you don’t want to go to a hospital, then we’re going to my Bro’s apartment.”  
The alarm on Karkat’s face was clear, even through the pain. “I...I don’t think that’s a good idea...I mean, you could be an axe murderer, for all...all I know...” a squeak cut him off as his hand slipped on his neck wound.  
“Too late.” Dave pulled up in front of the building and was already out of the car before Karkat could complain. 

He had expected the troll to be heavier, but if was actually fairly easy to carry him up the stairs to his Bro’s apartment. The difficult thing had been knocking on the door. Karkat couldn’t exactly do a whole lot and, to top it all off, Dave had found out the second Karkat had tried to step out of the car that he had another wound in his leg.  
Dave had decided to just kick on the door until his brother woke up.  
It only took one kick before the door was flung open wide, a disheveled Bro standing in the frame, straw colored hair a spiky mess, dressed only in his Rainbowdash pajama pants. He was poised to scream, but froze before an angry word could escape.  
After a second of slightly awkward silence, Bro switched into work mode. “Get him in here, set him on the couch, put pressure on the neck. The other wounds aren’t as important right now but if you can, check quickly to see how much they’re bleeding, I’ll be back in three seconds.” Bro disappeared into the apartment and Dave quickly walked in, kicking the door shut behind him. He laid Karkat on the couch as his brother had instructed, putting both of his hands over Karkat’s, helping the weak troll apply pressure.  
Karkat’s mouth moved, as if he was making to say something, but he locked eyes with Dave who shook his head. “Talking’s just going to aggravate the wound, I’d rather not have you bleed to death on my couch.” The attempt at levity fell flat, as Dave expected it would, but it had been worth a shot.  
Bro appeared suddenly beside Dave, a long swath of bandage in his hand and a very sharp needle and sterile thread in his hand, setting them down on the floor beside the couch. After briefly inspecting Karkat’s visible wounds, he turned to his brother, addressing him in the calm voice of a trained practitioner. “Dave, run into my room and open the first aid kit. I need the two syringes that 're in there.”  
Bro’s hand replaced Dave’s on Karkat’s neck as Dave leapt up from the couch and almost sprinted to the first aid box. He was about to open it, but Bro’s voice called out to him from the living room. “Actually, just bring me the whole kit, lil’ man. Better safe than sorry.”  
Dave ran back into the room, kit in hand. He plunked it down beside Bro’s kneeling body. “He’s...he’s going to be okay, right?” Dave surprised himself at how high pitched his voice sounded.  
Bro looked up from Karkat’s neck, his face as stoic as ever. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. Just needs a bit of patching up. Worse than /you/ used to get, but not fatal. He’s lost quite a lot of blood though, so he’ll need lots of rest while he recuperates.” He turned to address the wounded troll on the couch. “This might hurt because I only have local anesthetic an' these wounds 're pretty big, but yer goin' to be okay.” Bro’s warm orange eyes had a smile in them, one that didn’t show on his face.  
Dave nodded when his brother looked pointedly at him, sitting carefully on the empty spot of the couch beside Karkat’s head. Dave brushed his fingers through the troll’s hair in a vague attempt to sooth the kid’s nerves. He began to realize that Karkat was shaking. The poor kid was scared. Dave felt a surge of emotion in his chest and leaned down, talking calmly to Karkat. “You’re going to be okay. Bro’s a nurse, trained, and everything. He knows what he’s doing. We’re just lucky he doesn’t work the night shift anymore, am I right or am I right?”  
A small, pained smile bloomed on Karkat’s face and Dave found himself smiling back. The troll winced as Bro slid the small needle slid into the soft tissue of the kid’s neck. As Bro pushed the plunger down, Karkat’s pained expression relaxed a little. Picking up the needle and thread, Bro began to carefully stitch up the large bite wound, every stitch even and equally spaced, holding the flesh of Karkat’s neck together. Every now and then, Karkat would wince and his face would contort in pain again, but every time the troll seemed to just fight it back down until the stitching was out of the area unaffected by the anesthetic.  
Bro looked up apologetically, brushing a lock of hair out of Karkat’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts and I wish I had more anesthetic, but I need the other syringe for either your chest or leg, whichever is worse. Just bare with me for little longer, okay?”  
Karkat reached up with his now free hand and clasped blindly over his head. Dave understood what the troll wanted, and wrapped the hand in one of his. Karkat squeezed Dave’s hand tightly as Bro began stitching again. It felt like half an hour that Dave sat there, gripping Karkat’s hand, but with Bro’s expert stitching it was probably only a few minutes.  
Dave was beginning to suspect his mind had trouble contemplating the accurate passage of time.  
Then Bro was tying off the string and snipping it and it was over. Karkat released a breath he had been holding and relaxed. The pain had clearly subsided with the wound stitched up, and Karkat tried to sit up. Dave was about to object, but Bro subtly shook his head at him.  
Bro assisted the small troll in righting himself, carefully pulling Karkat’s blood splattered shirt over his head. Luckily, Karkat was fond of baggy clothing and, even soaked with now drying blood, it slid easily over his head.  
The wound on Karkat’s chest was not a bite mark. It also was not a single wound. A long set of claw marks raked down the right side of Karkat’s body, slicing through the sensitive flesh of the troll’s grub scars. Even though the worst and deepest section of the claw marks was not where the scars were, Bro knew from previously treating similarly injured trolls in the ER that the area around the grub scars was the area that needed the anesthetic. Grub scars for trolls were so sensitive to pain that something like this must have been excruciating.  
Bro looked up at Karkat, after inspecting the injuries. “These don’t look extremely bad, I might not need to stitch these up, but if the pain is too much in this area and your leg isn’t super bad, I can administer anesthetic here,” he gestured with his hand to the injured grub scars, being careful not to touch the skin, “but these just need heavy bandages and they’ll heal pretty quickly. Luckily for you, whoever did this didn’t puncture anythin' vital.”  
Dave blinked at Bro’s choice of words and opened his mouth to say something again, but the look Bro gave him made it clear that nothing would be discussed while Karkat was present.  
Karkat either didn’t notice the exchange or maybe he ignored it, simply shrugging his shoulders up and down. “You’re the expert. It’s fucking painful but...I’ve probably had worse.” Dave could tell Karkat was trying to put on a brave face, but he would have been able to see right through it, even if Karkat hadn’t still been crushing his hand.  
Bro nodded and took the small pair of scissors that he had used to snip the thread and cut off park of Karkat’s pant leg about five inches above the bite mark on his calf. Bro cut the fabric off the troll’s leg, carefully peeling it off the skin. The bite wound was deeper than the neck wound, bright red blood still leaking from holes that appeared to be made by fangs. Bro stared at the wound, evaluating the damage. It was deep, but the bleeding had obviously slowed. Bro pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cotton swab and gently began cleaning the blood from Karkat’s leg, not entirely sure where the wound was through the crusted, dried blood. “You’ve got quite a gash here, Vantas.”  
Bro’s hand hitched, freezing momentarily.  
“Wait. Wait a second.” Dave shifted on the couch, making to stand up. “How did you-”  
“Dave.” Bro’s tone stopped the blonde mid thought. “Not now.”  
“But-” Dave cut himself off, swallowing the words before they could escape his throat. He went silent and just held onto Karkat’s slender fingers.


	5. Chapter 5

After Bro had bandaged and patched up Karkat’s chest and leg, wrapping the wounds in thick gauze, Bro and Dave left Karkat on the couch and moved down the hall.  
Dave was about to voice the question hanging in the air, but Bro began talking before he could say anything. “He came into the ER for the first time about two weeks ago. Looked worse than any troll we’d ever seen stumble in before, to be honest. Had long deep lacerations all over his body and his shirt was practically hanging off his body. We hooked him up to fluids and he passed out pretty quick. The second time he came in was about a week after that, but he looked worse than the last time. There weren’t as many claw marks, but there was a large bite wound on his neck, like tonight. Third time was the day after that and he came in looking the same as the night before. And the fourth time I’ve seen him was tonight, when you showed up with him after sneaking out of the house and almost giving me a heart attack.”  
Stoic and calm as ever, Bro continued. “He heals pretty quickly though.” Bro ran his fingers through his spiky hair, exhaling a long breath of air before continuing. “I called up Roxy after the third visit to the ER and had her do some research. Turns out there’s no record of him other than a birth record and a city ID from when he moved here. The only way for someone to actually find out what happened to him or where he came from, would be to ask him and I don’t think he’s the type to volunteer information.”  
Dave listened to his brother, his words not quite hitting home. “So...was I right to bring him here?”  
Bro nodded. “Without a doubt. He got away at least partially intact this time, but who knows what could have happened if he’d been out there too long.”  
“So…” Dave rubbed the back of his neck, “what do we do?”  
“I wish I could tell ya, little man,” Bro said, shrugging half-heartedly. “But I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry, I know this chapter is a tad bit short, but I couldn't think of a better cut for it. Thank you to everyone who left Kudos, every time I see an email come through it makes me smile :o) It feels nice to know that someone is reading this little project of mine.


	6. Chapter 6

Karkat’s eyelids shifted, asleep on the couch as Dave brushed his fingers through his thick, black hair. The small troll looked so peaceful, even with the dried blood coating his arms and chest. Karkat had curled into a small bundle on the couch as he slept, his legs tucked up under him on the piece of furniture, arms crooked and tucked into his chest. Every now and then, his breathing would drop to an alarmingly slow rate, but each time the troll would squeak and suck in a huge lungful of air. Dave sat on the floor in front of the couch, resting his head on the cushion. His brother was letting him stay home from school the next day, so he didn’t see any reason to leave the couch and go sleep in his own room. Up close, Dave could see Karkat’s eyes moving around under their lids.  
Thinking back on the Alternian History and Culture course he had taken last year, Dave managed to recall something called the Hemospectrum. Hemo meant blood, didn't it? It was an important concept, but, of course, he had completely forgotten the actual meaning. Dave pulled out his phone and clicked open his web browser, quickly tapping in “What is the hemospectrum?”  
Dave clicked on the first link that came up, hoping for the best.  
The answer he got was not quite the one he was expecting.  
The page was titled Highblood Lowblood Unity and had several links to different pages of the website near the top and a list of quick-jump links to spots on the current page. Dave tapped the one that said “Hemospectrum” and was transported a decent ways down the page to the section he thought he was looking for.  
The article read as follows.  
“The Hemospectrum is the basis upon which Alternian society was once built. When Highbloods and Lowbloods were brother and sister, the people lived in harmony. Then, the Empress, Her Imperial Condescension, a warrior queen from a distant place filled with war and hatred, took over the entirety of Alternia. She imposed a High-Low ranking system based off of the color of an Alternian’s blood, a caste system known as The Hemospectrum. At the top of the spectrum there was Her Imperial Condescension with fuchsia blood, next sea-dweller violet, then purple, indigo, cerulean, teal, jade, olive, yellow, bronze, and burgundy. As with any system, however, there were outliers and anomalies. Lime bloods were considered a threat to societal order, due to not quite fitting on the spectrum. The lime blood genocide still darkens Alternian history. Another example of a mutated blood color, as the abnormalities are called, is bright red blood. This blood is the brightest hue of blood and is considered to be so low that it is not even on the Hemospectrum. An Alternian with candy red blood is usually called by a single name: Mutant. Mutants are considered to be less than an Alternian on the spectrum and because of this they were rounded up and sold into slavery to Highbloods. For clarification purposes, the line between Highblood and Lowblood is in between purple and indigo. Every troll has an ability singular to their blood color and position on the Hemospectrum. For instance, Purples have the ChuckleVoodoos, a hallucinogenic ability that allows them to send people nightmares or experience things physiologically through sensory manipulation. A Mutant, on the other hand, heals at an accelerated rate, making them good, solid workers. A theory behind why the Limebloods were massacred and not the Mutants is because the Mutants were not believed to have an ability that could threaten the Highbloods and the surpressive caste system. The Awakening of the Signless, however, proved this was false. 

Next to the last sentence was a link with the title “The Signless.” Of course, Dave’s curiosity got the better of him and when he clicked it he was once again jumped to another section of the page.

The Signless challenged the Highbloods not with war, but with peace, attempting to unify the blood colors with forgiveness. The Signless had an ability that could be considered passive, but was proven to be anything but. He had the power to forgive. The Signless traveled around from city to town, walking through the streets and pausing every now and then to lift a burden. He did not charge or ask for compensation. Her Imperial Condescension had him shackled and tortured until he was so full of rage that he could barely keep himself from screaming. Below is an excerpt of The Book of Immolation.  
Pain flowered inside the Signless,  
Rage boiling beneath him.  
“Why are you so angry?”  
Taunted the others surrounding  
His dangling form.  
And then come the words  
The terrible words he has held  
Back away from them  
They erupt from him  
In a fire of rage and anguish.  
“I AM ANGRY,”  
He screamed, vocal chords ripping  
Under the force of a thousand voices,  
“BECAUSE I FORGIVE YOU.”  
And then the arrow flew.

Dave stared at his phone screen in shock. He had never read anything so...well, frankly, disturbing in his entire life. Something about the words he had just read sent shivers down his spine. Not being able to hate someone, not being able to actually stop forgiving someone who was going to kill you was an unimaginable concept. Feeling drained, Dave set his phone down.  
“Shitty, am I right?”  
Dave jumped, Karkat’s voice jolting him out of his mind-fog. “Huh?”  
Shifting with a slight wince, Karkat shrugged. “The Signless. They killed him, you know.”  
Dave could only nod.  
“What else did you read about?” Karkat was trying to sound grumpy and not curious, but he wasn’t doing a particularly great job of it.  
“The Hemospectrum,” Dave said, carefully watching Karkat’s reaction.  
“Oh.” The troll shifted again, accidentally pulling the stitches in his neck painfully making him wince. “I...I’ll understand if you want me to leave.”  
Karkat made as if to stand, but Dave placed his hands on his small shoulders, gently pushing him back down. “You, mister lord-and-master-of-self-pity, aren’t going anywhere. I don’t give a shit about your blood color.”  
Grey eyes blinked at him, shock apparent on Karkat’s face. “You’re serious,” he said after a long pause. “You mean that.”  
Dave blinked in confusion. “Of course I do.”


	7. Chapter 7

Dave stayed home from school for three days to be with Karkat in the apartment while Bro was out working. He hadn’t wanted to, but Bro had insisted he stay so that Karkat wouldn’t accidentally rip open his stitches. Everyday, Karkat got progressively better and, respectively, more like the little crabby, abrasive guttersnipe that Dave had run into in the hallway. When he stood up for the first time and tried to put too much weight on his injured leg, he swore loud enough to shatter glass. That was the day that Dave learned the kid certainly had a colorful pallet of insults. When he had to ask Dave to help him walk to the bathroom for a shower, he snapped irritably that “his hair was worse than a cluckbeast nest with several cactuses fucking a chainsaw.” It didn’t make much sense, but Dave readily got the picture and wished he could forever erase the image from his mind. Karkat sulked, seated on the toilet as Dave ran him a bath instead of a shower, (Bro’s instructions being “Standing up in hot water is not a terrific idea. He might get faint and pass out. Plus, the moving water might reopen the wounds.”) only pausing to quietly grumble something about soaking in his own filth. Dave, who had been putting up with his snark for seventy two hours, just rolled his eyes and turned off the water. “Alright, you get cleaned up, let me know if you need anything.”  
As he started to leave, he felt a slight tug on his shirt sleeve and turned back around. Karkat glared at the tiled floor and muttered something under his breath Dave couldn’t quite hear. “What?”  
“I need...I need help.” The words almost seemed to stick in the troll’s throat. Karkat was obviously not used to admitting he needed assistance.  
“Oh. Okay.” Dave scratched the back of his neck with the arm Karkat wasn’t holding onto. “Do you need help with your clothes or...the whole thing?” Dave had never felt so awkward in his entire life.  
“The...the whole thing. Moving still hurts.”  
“Oh. Okay. I’ll...I’ll be right back.” Karkat released Dave’s sleeve and he exited the bathroom and ducked into his room, snatching an old swimsuit bottom from a drawer. Dave, while being quite strong for his age, was deceptively slender. His Bro made jokes about his strange build, calling him a praying mantis for his deceptive strength. So, while Karkat was certainly skinny, Dave wasn’t sure he was going to fit into any of his clothes.   
As he walked back to the bathroom, he rustled his hair in his hands, a nervous habit of his. Luckily, he thought to himself, at least my hair doesn’t tangle easily.  
Pushing open the door, he saw Karkat pulling his shirt carefully over his head. A muffled grumbling came from under the fabric.  
The kid was stuck.  
“Dude, are you serious?” Dave laughed softly, crossing his arms in the doorway and leaning against the frame.  
“What? I’m fi-” Karkat twisted to look over at where Dave’s voice was coming from and slipped off the toilet, crashing onto the bathroom floor.  
Dave lunged forward, pulling the small troll into his lap and the shirt over Karkat’s face. Quickly checking the wounds as Karkat writhed and complained on his legs, Dave sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Jesus, Vantas, you should have waited for me to get back. You could have opened up your neck again.”  
“It’s not my fault,” Karkat snapped, “I don’t like people touching me.”  
Dave blinked and Karkat’s eyes widened momentarily before curling his lip in a grimace and rolling over on his side. The blonde sighed, sliding his hands under Karkat’s arms and lifting him up as he stood. “Well, you’re gonna have to endure it for a little longer. We still need to get you in the bath, Karkles.” He seated Karkat back on the toilet and handed him the swim trunks. “Now, please tell me you can get your pants off by yourself.”  
Karkat nodded grumpily and Dave turned around, waiting for Karkat to change into the swim trunks as the small troll grumbled about how much he hated the name Karkles.

 

As Dave eased Karkat into the warm water, the blonde couldn’t help the small smile on his face as Karkat grumbled ridiculous profanities under his breath. Hey, it wasn’t his fault the kid was good enough at swearing to be a stand-up comedian. Dave had purposefully kept his eyes from really focusing on Karkat’s body, not really wanting to see the big red wounds decorating his flesh. Even though his Bro was a nurse, Dave himself was never particularly keen on gore and injuries.  
“You’re a new kind of fucked up, Strider,” Karkat snapped as he shifted in the water.  
Rolling his eyes, Dave exhaled in feigned exasperation. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms, “what do you want?”  
Dave had begun to notice that whenever Karkat asked for something he felt the intense need to preface it with a usually long string of curses, as if to hide the fact that he was requesting something.   
The troll growled in his throat and stared down at the water, muttering something softly.  
“Hmm?” Dave knelt down beside the tub, cupping his ear with his hand to indicate he hadn’t heard in what he thought was the most sarcastic manner possible.  
“I said, I need help washing my hair, asshole.”  
The blonde paused, unsure of how to respond. In the end he settled for a simple, “Oh.”

After much nasally snapping, profanity slinging, and water splashing, Dave discovered that troll horns were not something that should be touched. He hadn’t meant to, but as he had been scrubbing Karkat’s hair, his hand had bumped into one of the troll’s stubby little horns. Karkat had squeaked and twisted in the tub, his open palms connecting with Dave’s chest, shoving him backwards. Dave went sprawling on the white tile of the bathroom floor, his left shoulder connecting with the toilet.  
Karkat had started screaming and throwing water over the edge of the tub at him. “YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!!! DO NOT TOUCH MY HORNS, OR I SWEAR I WILL SLIT YOUR FUCKING THROAT!!!”  
“What the fuck?!” Dave’s face displayed a shocked and bewildered expression from the floor.  
All of a sudden, the fight seemed to go out of Karkat and the slumped in the tub, curling his arms around his chest. “Fuck you,” he mumbled, turning his face away.

Cautiously, Dave rose from his spot on the hard tile, very aware of the fact that his shirt and pants were soaked in water and there was a painful tightness in his back. He settled back down next to the tub and turned the faucet in the tub back on to replenish the lost water.  
Dave could feel Karkat’s eyes boring into his face, but he kept his own eyes focused on the running water.   
When the tub was full again, Dave shut off the water. He turned to the small troll and raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Do you want me to keep washing your hair, or do you want to rinse it out?”  
Karkat grumbled and shifted in the water, his arms tightening around his chest so much that an errant thought passed through Dave’s head that if the troll squeezed any tighter, his lungs would collapse. “Don’t touch my fucking horns.”  
Dave ran his right hand through his hair, exhaling in mild exasperation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t exactly take Xenobiology my Freshman year. I don’t know jack shit about how you work, alright? You didn’t have to almost snap my spine in half, though. You could have, like,” he shrugged, “I don’t know, slapped me or something. Or at least shoved a little less aggressively.”  
Karkat’s face turned a dull shade of red and he grunted something like an apology, letting Dave continue to, carefully, wash his hair.


End file.
